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Under the dome: Why two longtime Boulder residents keep coming back to Fiske Planetarium

Rachel Sauer — Mon, 30 Mar 2026 23:49:30 +0000

Under the dome: Why two longtime Boulder residents keep coming back to Fiske Planetarium Rachel Sauer Mon, 03/30/2026 - 17:49

Bradley Worrell

Although Drew Simon and Ron Marks did not attend ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ��, they have a deep appreciation for the university—and for Fiske in particular

When Drew Simon and Ron Marks walk out of Fiske Planetarium after a show, they intuitively know what’s coming next. It’s not applause or conversation or even a specific memory of a particular song or image.

It’s a feeling.

As the two longtime friends step back into the Boulder night, eyes adjusting, ears recalibrating, both of them are grinning from ear to ear. That part never changes.

“Every time we went,” Simon says, “we knew we’d walk out smiling.”

Longtime friends and Boulder residents Ron Marks (left) and Drew Simon are avid fans of the Fiske Planetarium, having attended dozens of shows over the past five years. They’ve seen some shows multiple times.

That quiet certainty—more than any single performance—is what has kept Simon and Marks returning to Fiske for years. Not because they planned to. Not because either of them studied astronomy or worked in the arts or even attended the University of Colorado Boulder.

And not because they expected to find something transformative inside the planetarium they had driven past many times. Instead, it began with curiosity and a misunderstanding.

Deep roots in the community

Marks, 80, and Simon, 71, have been friends for more than two decades, both with deep roots in the Boulder community stretching back at least four decades. Introduced to each other through a mutual friend—Marks’ housemate—they bonded over shared interests, which include hiking, live music, art and cultural events.

“There was a time when we were probably hippies, or hippie‑adjacent,” Simon says with a laugh. Over that time, ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� has been a constant presence in their life—even though neither man attended the university.

Marks has been retired for several years from a career as an electric engineer for Lefthand Design in Niwot. Simon recently retired from his job as a principal at BSW Wealth Partners in Boulder. Like many longtime Boulder residents, Simon’s relationship with the university grew organically, through connections to the Leeds School of Business and the Conference on World Affairs. Also, his oldest son attended ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ��, further weaving the university into his family’s life.

Yet none of that connected either man directly to the Fiske Planetarium. Neither of them had a lifelong fascination with celestial mechanics or immersive films projected on a dome ceiling. Their first visit came the way meaningful discoveries do: by accident.

“As for Fiske specifically, we didn’t have some grand plan. It was probably curiosity,” Simon says, reflecting back. “We may have seen a flyer for the planetarium or something in Boulder Weekly back when that still existed. Or we may have simply asked, ‘What’s going on at the planetarium?’”

Whatever the case, Simon and Marks decided to check it out.

All the pretty lights

Their first show at Fiske remains memorable largely because of how unprepared they were for it. The show listing read “Pretty Lights”—and Simon assumed that meant exactly what it sounded like: a show featuring visually pleasing lights. He had never heard of the musical act called Pretty Lights and didn’t realize it was the stage name of the performer.

“That probably shows how naïve we were at the beginning,” Simon says with a laugh. That misunderstanding says something about where Simon and Marks were at the time. Not insiders. Not trend hunters. Just two curious locals trying something unknown to them.

They saw that first show more than five years ago—and since that time the two men have made up for lost time by seeing as many shows as possible. Still, an exact count is difficult to quantify, Simon says, because the experience resists counting. Some nights, they attend two shows, back to back. At dome film festivals hosted by Fiske, the two men might watch eight or more short films in a day. So, does that count as one event—or eight?

Simon says he’s never kept track “because it never occurred to me that one day someone would ask.” He estimates today that it could range anywhere between 30 and 60 shows.

What he remembers clearly is that—especially in the early years—he and Marks went a lot. They were enthralled.

So many shows to choose from

Marks says the variety of the programming offered by Fiske is a big part of the draw.

“We’ve done all of them,” Simon agrees. “We’ve attended traditional planetarium shows focused on astronomy—black holes, galaxies and large-scale maps of the universe. We’ve done laser shows and we’ve attended a lot of Liquid Sky performances.

“Early laser shows were sometimes underwhelming,” he confesses, “but the technology and the people running it have improved dramatically. Today, I wouldn’t dismiss a laser-only show the way I might have several years ago.”

“We’ve done all of them. We’ve attended traditional planetarium shows focused on astronomy—black holes, galaxies and large-scale maps of the universe. We’ve done laser shows and we’ve attended a lot of Liquid Sky performances," says Drew Simon. (Photo: Fiske Planetarium)

For Simon and Marks, Liquid Sky performances—the hybrid music-and-visual experiences—have remained their favorite over the years. Simon says that’s because these shows are not canned visuals synced to a soundtrack but instead are created in real time by artists operating sophisticated software during the performance.

Watching the artists (who refer to themselves as “navigators) felt like watching someone paint while the painting formed—”except the brush was digital and the canvas was the dome itself,” Simon says.

Over time, Marks and Simon became familiar faces at Fiske events. After shows, they stayed behind to talk with the navigators, who would ask what they liked about the performance and what might make the event even better. Did a sequence move too fast? Did a visual linger too long? Was there enough variety?

In an informal way, Marks and Simon became in-house critics, always with a focus on helping the experience become better. That sense of exchange and mutual engagement with the navigators deepened their connection to Fiske.

Music was the thread that tied many of these performances together. Simon and Marks say they’ve seen many Fiske shows more than once.

“We’ve seen a lot of Grateful Dead shows—probably more than any other artist. Pink Floyd would be second,” Simon says. “Some of that has to do with our musical preferences, and some of it has to do with relationships with navigators, who would tell us, ‘I’m navigating this show tonight—you should come.’”

“Each performance—even with the same music—felt different,” Marks adds. “The visuals changed. The pacing changed. The interpretation changed, so it was never the same twice.”

A place of musical discovery

Fiske also became a place of musical discovery. Simon says he and Marks had never heard of Tame Impala before attending a Liquid Sky show featuring the band’s music. Since then, they’ve seen that program at least three times.

The planetarium didn’t just reinforce existing preferences—it expanded them, Simon says.

At one point, Simon’s involvement with Fiske crossed a small but meaningful threshold. During conversations with one of the navigators years back, he mentioned that the program could benefit from different music. One idea that emerged from that discussion was a Jimi Hendrix show—and the navigator asked Simon if he’d curate the music. He agreed.

Simon says selecting the tracks, shaping the flow and keeping the program within the typical Liquid Sky timeframe gave him a new appreciation for the craft behind the scenes. The Hendrix show doesn’t run often, but Simon says he considers it a personal footnote in Liquid Sky history.

Film under the dome

If Liquid Sky showed Simon what live‑generated visuals could be, a single dome film revealed what else was possible. That moment came for Simon when Fiske hosted Samsara, a fully produced film by the visual artist Android Jones. Unlike the performances Simon had seen before, Samsara was created specifically for dome presentation. Although the film was only about 35 minutes long, the experience was, in Simon’s words, like going from black‑and‑white TV to color. It completely reframed his understanding of the medium.

“At its heart, Fiske isn’t just about astronomy or music—it’s an immersive experience. It’s an art form that’s still finding its full expression.”

The two men have seen Samsara at least three times. While it was more expensive compared to standard Fiske programming, Simon says he never questioned whether it was worth it.

The film demonstrated that the dome wasn’t just a venue for live experimentation; it was also a legitimate canvas for fully realized cinematic works. That realization carried forward into other film experiences, including Mesmerica and Beautifica by James Hood and collaborators, both of which Simon and Marks saw multiple times.

Then there was Dome Fest West, a judged film festival dedicated entirely to dome films. Fiske hosted it for multiple years, and Simon and Marks attended at least two full festivals, spending entire weekends immersed in the medium. Some films were short and abstract, others narrative or technically focused. There were panel discussions, awards and artists present. For Simon, it was one of the best experiences money could buy.

Fiske audience also evolves over time

Meanwhile, the audience has changed over time.

“When we first started going, there might be 10 people in the entire theater. And sometimes, we were the only ones there,” Simon says. “Now, shows sell out.”

Also, audiences now often applaud between songs—something Simon says would have felt out of place in a traditional planetarium setting.

The environment remains distinctive: everyone seated, the room dark and quiet, eyes turned upward. Simon says he always appreciated when navigators asked people not to use their phones, knowing how disruptive even a small phone screen can be in that darkness. While that messaging has become less consistent, Simon says he finds that audiences are generally respectful and engaged.

So why keep coming back?

Part of the answer is simple: Simon and Marks say they love the planetarium as a resource. Living in a university town is often talked about in abstract terms, but Simon says Fiske represents a tangible way to engage with ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ��. Simon and Marks also regularly attend performances through the CU School of Music, and Simon says Fiske feels like a natural extension of that cultural life.

Another part is commitment. Marks and Simon became Fiske members because they wanted to support the planetarium. Membership made them feel connected, not just as consumers of entertainment but as participants in a community invested in what Fiske could become.

And finally, there is fascination.

“At its heart, Fiske isn’t just about astronomy or music—it’s an immersive experience,” Simon says. “It’s an art form that’s still finding its full expression.”

Each visit to Fiske carries the quiet promise that something new will unfold overhead.

“The people at Fiske are wonderful and the programming is thoughtful. And every time we go, we leave smiling,” Simon says. “It’s not hard to say, ‘Let’s go to a planetarium show tonight,’ because we know it will be a meaningful experience.”

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Although Drew Simon and Ron Marks did not attend ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ��, they have a deep appreciation for the university—and for Fiske in particular.

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Does cannabis cause anxiety? It depends

Rachel Sauer — Fri, 27 Mar 2026 14:54:20 +0000

Does cannabis cause anxiety? It depends Rachel Sauer Fri, 03/27/2026 - 08:54

Blake Puscher

Research suggests that cannabis may cause anxiety when it is strong enough or taken in large enough quantity to produce an immediate effect

Cannabis is an increasingly common drug, with more than 64 million people reporting use in 2024 in the United States alone, according to Statista—more than double the amount in 2010. Despite this, its effects are not well understood. For example, some people use cannabis for relief from anxiety, but there is also evidence that it can cause or worsen anxiety depending on the individual, how much is taken and other factors.

Determining what effect cannabis has on anxiety requires a better understanding of how it affects the endocannabinoid system. To this end, researchers from CUChange (Center for Health and Neuroscience, Genes and Environment), including Renée Martin-Willett, Carillon Skrzynski, Ethan Taylor and Cinnamon Bidwell, with assistance from Jost Klawitter and Cristina Sempio of the University of Colorado Anschutz, assessed the biochemical changes that occurred when people with anxiety took different cannabis products.

Endocannabinoids

The endocannabinoid system is a biological system that extends throughout the whole body. “It’s not just in our brains,” Martin-Willett says; “it’s also in the peripheral nervous system, which is just a fancy way of saying it’s all over the body.”

Renée Martin-Willett (left) and Carillon Skrzynski (right), along with their CUChange research colleagues, assessed the biochemical changes that occurred when people with anxiety took different cannabis products.

The system uses two receptors: CB1 and CB2. In biology, receptors are chemical structures that contribute to a biological effect when they bind with compatible chemical messengers. Whether a receptor and messenger will be able to bind depends on their structure, similar to a lock and key, except that the structure is chemical. When a messenger binds to a receptor and the receptor uses the signal (by relaying or amplifying it, for example), the messenger is considered an agonist—as opposed to an antagonist, which is like a key that fits in a lock but, instead of opening that lock, prevents the correct key from being inserted.

Unlike keys, which either work or do not, chemical messengers can have effects of different strength. For example, THC (delta 9-tetrahydrocannabinol), the main psychoactive component of cannabis, is only a partial agonist of CB1. According to Martin-Willett, CB1 is mostly concentrated in the brain, whereas CB2 is mostly in the gut. The other main component of cannabis is CBD (cannabidiol), which modulates CB1 and CB2, making the effects they produce when activated by agonists weaker without preventing agonists from binding to the receptors.

These chemicals act on the endocannabinoid system because they have chemical structures like endocannabinoids, which are neurotransmitters that are produced by the human body. The two most-studied endocannabinoids are AEA (N-arachidonoyl ethanolamide) and 2-AG (2-arachidonoylglycerol), and they are the focus of this study for that reason.

“2-AG has a really high concentration, and it’s mostly in the brain,” Martin-Willett explains. “It binds with CB1. Then AEA, which has much lower concentrations, is more in the periphery. It’s implicated in implantation and the hormonal cycle for women and is increasingly being linked to anxiety and other kinds of mood disorders.” AEA is associated with positive feelings, and the receptors it binds with, CB1 and CB2, are thought to play a role in whether people view their environment in a positive or negative way. Therefore, AEA may ameliorate feelings of anxiety.

Although some simple facts about the endocannabinoid system are understood, many details remain unexplained. In particular, there is a question as to the effect of cannabis on the endocannabinoid system. This includes how THC and CBD may affect the concentration of AEA and 2-AG in the body, which has implications for what effect cannabis has on anxiety and other aspects of people’s mental state. “Sometimes I tell people the endocannabinoid system is like the Mariana Trench of biomedicine,” Martin-Willett says, “because it was only really discovered in the mid-‘90s. How did we not know about this entire, full-body system until the ‘90s?”

The study

Because this study was intended to determine the effect of cannabis use on anxiety, the participants all had scores on the GAD-7 (generalized anxiety disorder) screener that indicated at least mild anxiety. The participants were split up into four groups: one-fourth of the participants were in the control group (meaning they did not use any cannabis), one-fourth used THC-dominant products, one-fourth used CBD-dominant products and one-fourth used products that combined THC and CBD in a 1:1 ratio.

Some people use cannabis for relief from anxiety, but there is also evidence that it can cause or worsen anxiety depending on the individual, how much is taken and other factors. (Photo: Unsplash)

The study found that the people in the THC-dominant and 1:1 groups had higher AEA levels than those in the control group when cannabis was taken during an acute administration session (meaning in a single dose that is strong enough to produce an immediate effect as opposed to administration over the course of weeks). These results are consistent with the hypothesis that the effects of THC on AEA are caused by competitive binding between the two chemicals at CB1.

“THC might affect AEA in a couple of different ways,” Martin-Willett explains. “THC will bind to CB1 in a ‘normal’ way at the synapse, but it will also permeate the lipid bilayer of the cell itself. The results from our paper support that first idea that THC is competitively binding with AEA at CB1. It is kind of fighting AEA to bind and winning more often than AEA is.”

The basic idea is that whenever THC binds to a receptor, it takes away an opportunity for AEA to bind, causing fewer receptors to be activated by AEA. Even though THC and AEA are both partial agonists of CB1, it is possible that the effects they create upon binding are different. “One idea,” Martin-Willett continues, “is if more AEA makes you less anxious, and in the moment, THC binds competitively with CB1 and keeps AEA from interacting, maybe that is contributing to the paranoia or anxiety after acute use of THC. That is speculative, though. We do not have good human studies on that yet.”

2-AG levels did not change when administered acutely. This could be because 2-AG has higher concentrations in the human body than AEA, making the consequences of introducing THC less significant in the short term. However, in the THC-dominant group, it increased from baseline after two weeks before decreasing to reach a near-baseline level by week four. While AEA is thought to be associated with positive feelings, the association between 2-AG is mostly unknown.

Catching up with the market

Since the Controlled Substances Act of 1971, cannabis has been classified as a Schedule I drug in the United States, which means that it faces special restrictions on the federal level. That may change soon because of the Department of Health and Human Services’ 2023 recommendation that cannabis be reclassified as a Schedule III drug and because of President Trump’s 2025 executive order on the subject. Despite this, and even in states where cannabis has been legalized, the current classification puts limits on studies like this one.

For example, second author Carillon Skrzynski says, “In a lot of our studies, we are not allowed to tell people how much to use, or what to use in some circumstances. That really puts a damper on any kind of causal conclusion.” Ordinarily, scientists keep all variables that could affect the phenomenon they want to understand constant except for one, called the independent variable, which they vary in a controlled manner. This makes the relationship between the independent variable and the phenomenon clear. If multiple variables change at the same time, it becomes almost impossible to say how much each variable contributes to the phenomenon, or even if they would have an effect individually.

“I think there are two really exciting areas that the field needs to move towards,” Martin-Willett adds. “Number one, we need to account for age. We know that the endocannabinoid system changes a lot when we get older. People talk about reduced tone, which just means you have fewer receptors, but we do not really know what that means—if it has a greater effect or a lower effect. And I think the other piece of it is sex assigned at birth. Like I mentioned, more and more the endocannabinoid system is being viewed like the endocrine system, or like the hormonal system, and these things are intertwined, especially AEA and the reproductive system.”

Martin-Willett and Skrzynski both plan to look into these areas. Additionally, their center, CUChange, has multiple studies running and is actively looking for research participants. That is important not only because the different effects of cannabis are unknown, but because it is already being used on a large scale. “A lot of this is really unregulated right now,” Martin-Willett says, “and I think the market is way ahead of the science. People are already using cannabinoids for anxiety, for sleep, for pain, for other kinds of mood problems, and so they can make their voices heard to the government, that this is someplace they want research money to go.”

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Research suggests that cannabis may cause anxiety when it is strong enough or taken in large enough quantity to produce an immediate effect.

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��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� scientists honored as AAAS fellows

Rachel Sauer — Thu, 26 Mar 2026 14:20:24 +0000

��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� scientists honored as AAAS fellows Rachel Sauer Thu, 03/26/2026 - 08:20

Scholars Rebecca Safran and Tin Tin Su recognized by the American Association for the Advancement of Science for excellence in research, teaching and interpreting science to the public

Rebecca Safran, a professor of ecology and evolutionary biology who has led groundbreaking research on the evolution of new species, and Tin Tin Su, professor and chair of molecular, cellular and developmental biology whose research is leading to novel cancer therapies, have been named fellows of the American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS).

The AAAS fellowship is among the highest honors in the scientific community, recognizing a distinguished cohort of scientists, engineers and innovators who “have been recognized for their achievements across disciplines, from research, teaching and technology to administration in academia, industry and government, to excellence in communicating and interpreting science to the public,” AAAS officials note.

“This year’s AAAS Fellows have demonstrated research excellence, made notable contributions to advance science and delivered important services to their communities,” says Sudip S. Parikh, AAAS chief executive officer and executive publisher of the Science family of journals. “These Fellows and their accomplishments validate the importance of investing in science and technology for the benefit of all.”

Rebecca Safran is a professor of ecology and evolutionary biology who has led groundbreaking research on the evolution of new species.

A study of swallows

Safran, whose passion for biology took root in a plant taxonomy class during her undergraduate studies at the University of Michigan, and her research team, study the evolution of new species, focusing on the causes and consequences of individual variation across different scales of time and space.

Because studying the formation of new species can be difficult—given that most species are millions of years old and what caused them to diverge from their ancestors often can’t be determined—Safran and her team study barn swallows, a very closely related group of populations of migratory birds that are currently diverging. This allows Safran and her team to study the process of speciation in real time.

Safran won a National Science Foundation Early Career Development award to study speciation in barn swallows across their entire, expansive breeding range throughout the Northern Hemisphere and Middle East. During the COVID-19 pandemic, when it wasn’t possible to conduct research in other countries, Safran and her research team began focusing on the rapid decline in the population of barn swallows and its implications. For their work, Safran and team study the birds using a highly integrative approach including behavioral, physiological and genetic perspectives.

Among other discoveries, Safran and her team found that sexual selection, or the process by which organisms choose mates based on traits they find attractive, drives the emergence of new species. Her team’s research has been published in more than 120 peer-reviewed journals, including Science, Nature and Current Biology. She also co-edited a recent book on speciation (2024, Cold Spring Harbor Press).

“None of this work is possible without the incredible collaboration with students, colleagues at CU and around the world, private landowers who allow us to study populations of barn swallows on their properties and continuous funding support by the National Science Foundation and other agencies,” Safran says. “I am especially honored to have worked with so many talented undergraduate, graduate and postdoctoral students."

Studying fruit flies to treat cancer

Su, who attended Woodstock School in Mussoorie, Uttarakhand, India, credits her experiences there, in part, with helping her understand that her ideal environment is one in which “you do respect the elders or people who have had more experience or authority. But at the same time, if it doesn't seem right, you question it.”

Tin Tin Su is a professor and chair of molecular, cellular and developmental biology whose research is leading to novel cancer therapies.

Throughout her career, Su and her research colleagues have sought to develop new ways of attacking cancer. Through research on how tissues and organs in fruit flies regenerate after being damaged by X-rays, they synthesized the chemical SVC112, which helps prevent cancer cells from regrowing following radiation exposure. Su and her colleagues focused on the fruit fly because this insect shares more than 70% of disease-relevant genes with humans.

SVC112 is based on the chemical bouvardin found in the firecracker bush (Bouvardia ternifolia) that grows in the Southwest United States and Mexico. Su and her colleagues discovered that bouvardin can prevent regeneration of tissues in fruit flies.

More recently, Su, who also is a member of the CU Cancer Center, and her colleague Antonio Jimeno, co-leader of the CU Cancer Center’s Developmental Therapeutics Program, used SVC112 to target cancer stem cells in head and neck cancers. They are in the process of applying to the FDA to test SVC112 in human trials.

Su also has participated in the ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� Community Perspectives Program, conducting outreach in several rural Colorado communities that led to a research collaboration with Colorado State University Pueblo to assess the effect of heavy metals on the genome in fruit fly and human cells.

“I do what I do because I love science,” Su says. “The potential to help cancer patients in Colorado and beyond makes it even better. So, to be named a AAAS Fellow is really the cherry on top!”

��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� the AAAS Fellowship

The AAAS began naming fellows annually in 1874, people nominated by the AAAS Council to recognize those whose “efforts on behalf of the advancement of science or its applications are scientifically or socially distinguished.”

Safran and Su join a cohort of more than 80 ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� faculty members who previously received the honor, as well as a broader cadre that includes Thomas Edison, W.E.B DuBois, Maria Mitchell, Steven Chu, Ellen Ochoa and Irwin M. Jacobs.

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Scholars Rebecca Safran and Tin Tin Su recognized by the American Association for the Advancement of Science for excellence in research, teaching and interpreting science to the public.

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Young musicians tend to keep playing later in life

Rachel Sauer — Wed, 25 Mar 2026 18:38:58 +0000

Young musicians tend to keep playing later in life Rachel Sauer Wed, 03/25/2026 - 12:38

Clint Talbott

But their path is not linear, with many starting, stopping and resuming in adulthood; genetics and home environment play differing roles, ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� research finds

Those who played a guitar, piano or ukulele as kids are more likely than average to play as an adult—though perhaps not as likely as you might expect.

That’s one finding of a new study led by University of Colorado Boulder researcher Dan Gustavson, which sheds light on how children’s early interactions with music shape—but don’t determine—their musical lives decades later.

The findings, recently published in the journal Developmental Science, draw on nearly 40 years of data from surveys of 1,900 people in The Colorado Adoption/Twin Study of Lifespan Behavioral Development and Cognitive Aging (CATSLife).

��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� researcher Dan Gustavson led a recently published study that sheds light on how children’s early interactions with music shape—but don’t determine—their musical lives decades later.

Gustavson and his colleagues analyzed measures of “music engagement”—being interested in and skilled at musical instruments—of participants at ages 7, 10, 12 and 16, then compared them with the same individuals’ music-playing habits in their 30s. The result: Early music engagement predicts adult instrument playing, but far less strongly than expected.

Many participants started and stopped music throughout adolescence, and some took up music later in life.

“We found more change than stability,” says Gustavson, assistant research professor at ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� Institute of Behavioral Genetics. “Kids don’t follow a single linear path. A lot of them start, stop and restart music as they grow.”

The study also highlights shifting genetic and environmental influences. In childhood, shared environmental factors—such as family resources, school access and neighborhood programs—played a major role in determining who “engaged” with music. By adolescence, however, genetic influences grew stronger, probably reflecting teens’ increasing autonomy in the activities they pursue.

“Adolescence is a time where you start to get a lot more freedom over your own behavior,” Gustavson says. “Your interests become less influenced by your parents and more by what you’re exploring. People who are just more naturally tuned to figuring out musical instruments are going to find themselves in those environments more.”

Gender differences emerged as well. Girls were somewhat more likely to engage with music in childhood, though boys showed slightly higher heritability for music engagement at younger ages. These differences disappeared by adolescence.

“Girls were more likely to play music than boys . . . but in boys, there was slightly higher heritability in childhood for music engagement. That actually evened out by adolescence,” Gustavson says.

Playing and listening

Perhaps surprisingly, listening to music in adulthood was largely unrelated to playing music in childhood. Playing and listening appear to be distinct traits. “Passive listening is its own thing,” Gustavson notes. “It doesn’t track neatly with who played instruments as kids.”

“Music may be uniquely positioned to support language development, cognitive growth and even resilience against risky behaviors. But kids can’t benefit from it if they don’t have access,” says ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� researcher Dan Gustavson. (Photo: Dzmitry Shepeleu/Unsplash)

Gustavson is now exploring whether music engagement at key developmental windows—especially around age 12—may help protect teens from later substance use. Preliminary evidence suggests early adolescent music engagement is linked to lower rates of alcohol use and fewer substances tried in late adolescence, five to 10 years later.

He notes that scientists take a developmental perspective on how behaviors can affect health. “You can’t just look at one time point when you want to understand how behaviors relate to important health outcomes. You have to think about the developmental stage. . . . There may be specific windows where things matter a lot more.

“Adolescence is when people start experimenting, and putting yourself in a music environment might be most protective during this time,” he says. Ultimately, Gustavson hopes the research might strengthen arguments for restoring music programs in schools.

“Music may be uniquely positioned to support language development, cognitive growth and even resilience against risky behaviors,” he says. “But kids can’t benefit from it if they don’t have access.”

CATSLife twin studies and other longitudinal twin research help scientists discern the influences of genetics vs. environmental factors by comparing identical twins (who have 100% shared genes) and fraternal twins (with 50% shared genes).

As a student, Gustavson became interested in the power of such studies: “I had friends growing up who were twins, and we always talked about what makes twins similar or different. Taking courses here, I found it really exciting to unpack which aspects of things are explained by genetics and which by the environment.”

Music itself strikes a chord with Gustavson, who plays guitar and drums and was a professional musician for a couple of years before he earned his PhD. “I’ve been really grateful that I’ve been able to integrate this into my research program now.

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But their path is not linear, with many starting, stopping and resuming in adulthood; genetics and home environment play differing roles, ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� research finds.

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TikTok doesn’t change minds—it changes moods

Rachel Sauer — Mon, 23 Mar 2026 23:25:55 +0000

TikTok doesn’t change minds—it changes moods Rachel Sauer Mon, 03/23/2026 - 17:25

Bradley Worrell

New research from ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� political scientist Michelangelo Landgrave finds that watching political influencers on TikTok does not seem to influence young voters on the issues—but does leave them feeling sadder, angrier and more anxious

If you are over the age of 30, put aside those preconceived ideas that TikTok is just a website where teens and young adults watch 10-second videos of cute cats.

According to the Pew Research Center, about one in five U.S. adults now regularly gets their news from TikTok—and usage is highest among people under age 30. That shift prompted University of Colorado Boulder political scientist Michelangelo Landgrave to ask a simple but important question: What does consuming political content on TikTok actually do to young voters?

In a new study published in Political Studies Review, Landgrave and his co-authors found that while TikTok videos from political influencers don’t appear to change young voters’ positions on the issues, they do have an impact—making those viewers feel more negative emotional states, such as anxiety, anger and sadness.

��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� political scientist Michelangelo Landgrave and his research colleagues found that while TikTok political influencers may not change minds, they do change moods.

Landgrave recently discussed the findings of his research paper with Colorado Arts and Sciences Magazine. His comments have been edited lightly for clarity and condensed.

Question: How does this latest study fit into your broader area of research?

Landgrave: I study American politics broadly, including institutions and political behavior. This paper is primarily a behavior study. It was inspired by earlier work examining how exposure to traditional news media—like Fox News and CNN—shapes political beliefs.

We started thinking that traditional media isn’t where many young people get their news anymore. Instead, they’re getting it from TikTok or similar short‑form video platforms like YouTube. It’s arguably the only type of media where the number of people getting news is actually increasing. Traditional media still has an audience, but it’s relatively stagnant and it skews older.

That led us to ask: Does this change in media format affect how people process political information?

Question: At the outset, were you surprised to learn how many younger Americans are getting their news from TikTok?

Landgrave: Somewhat. One of our co‑authors, Robert Anstett, was a student at the time, and we brought him onto the project explicitly because neither I nor the other senior co‑author, Abdelaziz Alsharawy (assistant professor at UT Health Houston School of Public Health), really used TikTok. We had a sense this was happening, but we weren’t firsthand users of TikTok.

We had read a Pew Research Center report noting that an increasing number of people get their news from TikTok, and both of us thought, ‘Isn’t that just a 5‑second clip? What can you really get from that?’

That skepticism helped motivate the study.

Question: When and where was this study conducted?

Landgrave: This study was conducted in 2023 at the University of Missouri while I was finishing my work there. Missouri turned out to be ideal because, while it’s a red state at the presidential level, the local student population was about evenly split—roughly 50% Democrat and 50% Republican. The experiment involved political science students who agreed to participate in the experiment.

Question: How did the experiment work?

Landgrave: At the start of the weeklong study, participants were randomly assigned—regardless of their political views—to one of three groups. One group watched Democratic‑leaning political videos, another watched Republican‑leaning videos, and the control group watched nonpolitical content—mostly animal videos.

We didn’t produce the videos ourselves. These were real TikTok videos that had been popular in the week leading up to the study.

"Because the videos are so short, influencers rely heavily on emotion rather than argument. Both Democratic and Republican videos leaned strongly on negative emotions—sadness, fear and anxiety," says ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� scholar Michelangelo Landgrave.

Question: With political influencer content, did you notice any notable differences in who was producing the content by age, gender or race? What about the frequency of posts?

Landgrave: That surprised us. We expected differences but we didn’t find much. Age, gender and racial diversity were fairly balanced across political sides.

We did observe that Democratic‑leaning influencers produce more videos and tend to have more followers. Both are still dwarfed by nonpolitical content like animal videos, but there is a clear production imbalance. It’s unclear whether that’s due to the algorithm or differences in content creation. We can’t say for sure.

Question: Were there differences in the way Democratic and Republican influencers made their cases to TikTok viewers?

Landgrave: That was one of our most interesting findings. Because the videos are so short, influencers rely heavily on emotion rather than argument. Both Democratic and Republican videos leaned strongly on negative emotions—sadness, fear and anxiety.

Republican‑leaning videos tended to show more negative emotions like contempt and fear. That said, both sides relied heavily on negative emotions. Democratic-leaning videos were more likely to utilize anger. By contrast, traditional news often includes lighter or feel‑good stories, while animal videos found on TitkTok are, of course, just animals being animals.

Question: If the political videos on TikTok are less than a minute, it doesn’t seem like that’s enough time to properly address an issue in a substantive way?

Landgrave: Exactly. Even short television news segments usually provide some nuance and context. There’s a reason it takes 10, 20 or even 60 minutes to follow the news properly. With 5‑ or 10‑second clips, there’s very little room for nuance—you’re really only getting snippets.

Question: After the weeklong experiment, research subjects who watched these influencer videos showed no evidence of changing their opinions on political topics?

Landgrave: That’s correct. We didn’t find evidence that political attitudes changed—even after a full week of exposure. This is important because it wasn’t just one video; the algorithm adapts. Once someone starts watching a type of content, TikTok shows them more of it. So, effectively, we were altering their algorithm for a week—and still didn’t see attitude change.

It’s possible longer exposure—months or years—could matter, but at least over a week, we didn’t see a direct effect on political attitudes.

Question: But you did see emotional effects even at just one week?

Landgrave: Yes. While political attitudes didn’t change, emotional states did. After a week of political TikTok exposure—regardless of whether it was Democratic or Republican—participants reported feeling more sadness, anxiety and anger.

I went into this study fairly ambivalent, assuming concerns were probably overstated. But after seeing the results, I’m genuinely worried about the emotional effects on young people.

��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� scholar Michelangelo Landgrave and his research colleagues found that after a week of political TikTok exposure—regardless of whether it was Democratic or Republican—participants reported feeling more sadness, anxiety and anger. (Photo: Kelly Sikkema/Unsplash)

Question: Do you believe there are possible policy implications here?

Landgrave: Speaking only as a private citizen, and not representing ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� position, I think there’s reason for concern—particularly regarding children and teenagers. While we didn’t find direct political effects, we did find emotional harm.

That suggests policymakers should consider stronger safeguards, whether that’s time limits, improved parental controls or other measures.

Question: Why do you think emotions changed but political attitudes didn’t?

Landgrave: That surprised me, too. We focused on young adults because their political views are still forming. If there were going to be an effect, we expected to see it there.

One possibility is that emotional effects accumulate faster than ideological change. I also wonder whether younger audiences—middle school or even elementary‑age children—might be more susceptible, though that research would require different expertise.

Question: Were your survey participants already using TikTok?

Landgrave: Almost all of them. Only about five participants had never used TikTok. Most already had accounts and varied only in how much they used it. Our intervention didn’t replace their normal viewing—it nudged the algorithm by requiring them to watch specific videos daily.

Question: How confident are you that TikTok itself caused the negative emotional effects, rather than outside life stress?

Landgrave: Because it was an experimental study with random assignment, we’re confident we controlled for most external factors. That said, I’d love to explore conditional effects—whether the impact is stronger for heavy users, rural populations or people with fewer entertainment alternatives.

Question: Do you believe this is a subject area worthy of more exploration, possibly on what longer-term exposure to TikTok might mean for mental health outlook? And maybe whether political influencers have a greater influence over a longer-term period?

Landgrave: Long‑term experimental studies would be very difficult, but observational work is possible. As a researcher—and as a teacher—I’m increasingly concerned about the mental health effects (of social media) on younger people. I see students who seem almost addicted to these platforms, and I worry about my nieces and nephews too.

I want to be clear: This is speculative, but I can imagine an indirect effect over time. Years of exposure to emotionally negative content could potentially radicalize people or increase tolerance for extreme behavior. Our study can’t prove that, but it raises important questions.

Question: If you do more research on this particular subject, what might that look like?

Landgrave: We want to use eye‑tracking technology—glasses that track where people are actually looking. That would help us understand whether viewers are focused on the speaker, the text or even the video at all. Future studies might also involve controlled lab settings to see whether focused attention changes outcomes.

Question: Have you received feedback from other researchers on your published work regarding TikTok influencers?

Landgrave: Yes. Colleagues have reached out, including researchers studying similar effects internationally. This may not be a uniquely American issue—it could be global.

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Eyes in the sky focus on elephants

Rachel Sauer — Mon, 23 Mar 2026 14:22:27 +0000

Eyes in the sky focus on elephants Rachel Sauer Mon, 03/23/2026 - 08:22

Tiffany Plate

��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� PhD student Liam Jasperse-Sjolander is helping elephant behavioral observation get off the ground—and into the air above Africa

Walking through the quiet, lush rainforests of Gabon, on Africa’s equatorial west coast, forest elephants have a knack for appearing and disappearing just as quickly.

Because they travel in small groups through the thick jungles, forest elephants are much less noticeable—and thus much harder to observe—than their cousins that live on the wide-open African savannas.

For Liam Jasperse-Sjolander, a University of Colorado Boulder environmental studies PhD student, that quiet grace is part of the magic of his fieldwork. “They can be very silent, very unassuming,” he says. “Suddenly you’ll see this gigantic creature in the forest, and the next instant they’re gone.”

��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� PhD student Liam Jasperse-Sjolander has been studying elephant behavior since 2016. (Photo: Alain-Djessy Banguiya)

Jasperse-Sjolander has spent years traveling through Gabon and other African countries tracking elephant behavior in a variety of ways: using radio collars, camera traps and, more recently, drones.

And he’s been publishing his findings along the way. In 2025 alone, Jasperse-Sjolander co-authored three publications, one based on data from dung collection in Gabon and two on the benefits and potential ramifications of drones in observations.

Now he’s working to collate years of field data collected from these studies—identifying behavioral patterns and their ecological implications—for his dissertation, and pondering what’s next in his research.

Discovering Africa

Growing up, Jasperse-Sjolander didn’t always know where his love of the outdoors would take him. “I just wanted to do something outside,” he says of his childhood in Colorado. “I was either going to work in science or go run off into the woods to fend for myself.”

Ultimately, he chose the former, earning an undergraduate degree in environmental biology from McGill University in Montreal. During those years he got his first taste of fieldwork, spending a semester learning about conservation and field ecology in Kenya, Uganda and Tanzania—and falling in love with Africa. Why?

“From a conservation perspective I think that many areas still feel wild, with so many megafauna worth protecting. And I love the beautiful diversity and vibrancy of cultures and traditions there.”

That’s why, after finishing his undergraduate studies, he headed right back, signing on as a research assistant for a Duke University PhD student Amelia Meier, who was tracking forest elephants in the Wonga Wongué Presidential Reserve in Gabon. Jasperse-Sjolander was eager to get in the field and watch the elephants with his own eyes, and was pleased to see that Meier was interested in mixing old-school observation methods with some new technologies.

“Her approach was really interesting and it kind of opened my eyes to studying behavior in the field in new ways,” he says.

On the ground in Gabon

That approach required a few radio collars—and sorting through an awful lot of dung. Jasperse-Sjolander and his colleagues would track the forest elephants’ movements, then follow along at a safe distance to capture dung samples for later lab analysis.

The data they collected showed the makeup of the fruits and seeds the elephants were consuming in the forest, and laid the foundation for an October 2025 paper published in the journal Oikos. The article sought to model how elephants may play a role in reseeding forests with trees and other large plant species that can consume large amounts of carbon dioxide.

Forest elephants, once thought to be a subspecies of African savanna elephants, were recognized as their own species in 2021 by the International Union for Conservation of Nature. Part of Liam Jasperse-Sjolander’s work is to help establish a behavioral baseline. “It's really hard to protect a critically endangered species if you don't know what they're doing and where they're going.” (Photo: Liam Jasperse-Sjolander)

The results of the study showed wide variety in when and how the elephants disperse seeds, making it difficult to use a one-size-fits-all model for predicting how they will impact their local ecology.

“A lot of climate initiatives will put an emphasis on elephants being ‘gardeners of the forest,’” says Jasperse-Sjolander. These initiatives’ models assume that if elephants are in the area, carbon will in turn increase by a certain amount. “But if that’s not true in a country the size of Gabon, that’s certainly not true on an international scale.”

While there is still more work to do to better understand this interaction, Jasperse-Sjolander’s work in the field was pivotal to reaching this next step in the research.

In the air in Kenya

Now Jasperse-Sjolander is taking his fieldwork to new heights by studying how drones can be used to track elephants’ movements, eating patterns and group sizes—without disturbing the creatures. “This new format opens up a lot of doors for seeing behavior that we haven’t seen before,” says Jasperse-Sjolander.

In 2024 Jasperse-Sjolander was contracted by Save the Elephants, an African non-governmental organization dedicated to the preservation of elephants and their habitats, to analyze how drones may impact different elephant groups. “Before we start using drones to study behavior, we have to make sure that we're not negatively affecting the elephants,” says Jasperse-Sjolander.

Jasperse-Sjolander analyzed the behavioral data Save the Elephants had captured during trial runs of the drones with 14 distinct elephant groups in the Samburu National Reserve in Kenya. The results, which were published in November 2025 in Scientific Reports, were positive: While some of the elephants exhibited a few changes in baseline behavior—like eating a bit less or staying more alert—after multiple trial runs the group seemed generally unphased.

The researchers performing the trials adhered to some general common-sense protocols about how far to stay from the group.

“We always would launch the drone at least a half kilometer away from the group, since it's really at takeoff that it's the most noisy and disturbing,” says Jasperse-Sjolander. “Then we flew at a height of 120 meters (around 400 feet), which is the maximum height you can fly drones in Kenya. So we're basically as far away as we can be.”

Even at that distance, the latest high-tech drones can still capture high-resolution images; researchers can also use the drones’ embedded infrared camera to follow the elephants at night. That camera allowed researchers to follow some elephants for 24 hours and learn more than they ever knew about the animals’ sleep patterns.

Even at heights of 400 feet, drones’ high-resolution lenses allow researchers to capture important information, such as back length measurements, a common indicator of age. (Photo: Save the Elephants)

“Previously we’d estimated that they only sleep for 15 minutes, but we found that sometimes they’ll all lay down together in a dry riverbed and sleep for a full two hours,” says Jasperse-Sjolander.

“We didn’t really know before what elephants were doing at night,” he adds.. “And so we’re uncovering all these layers of elephant behavior that can help the population.” Knowing where they spend most of their time, when they leave an area and when they are most vulnerable to poaching are all important considerations in the business of saving elephants, he explains.

In May 2025, Jasperse-Sjolander and the Save the Elephants team also published a small field note in the journal Pachyderm about how to maximize these drones’ capabilities, even when there are restrictions on their flight (e.g., in Kenya, where drones are highly regulated). “It can still be a very useful piece of equipment,” says Jasperse-Sjolander, noting that the device’s infrared camera and potential for measuring elephant shoulder height (another common indicator of age) can all be used on the ground, and can take the place of other, more expensive equipment.

In the lab in Colorado

Now, with so much fieldwork data under his belt, Jasperse-Sjolander is back at CU working to finalize his dissertation, comparing behavior between forest and savanna elephants. He’ll build on his master’s coursework (also earned at ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ��), which looked specifically at the different behaviors of forest elephants in Gabon—which is 90% forest, 10% savanna—when they’re in the two different biomes.

“Most forest elephant groups are just a mother around their calf and maybe a few relatives,” says Jasperse-Sjolander, explaining that the patchily distributed fruit trees that the elephants feed on are not enough to sustain groups much larger than that.

But, when they emerge from the forest, these groups connect with other small groups.

“Elephants are still very social, and it’s important for them to keep those links and have that larger association network,” says Jasperse-Sjolander, adding that the elephants’ time in the savanna is also important for the exchange of information.

Jasperse-Sjolander’s dissertation will expand the boundaries of his comparison of forest and savanna elephant behaviors to take more of a continent-wide approach to understanding the variations between and among them.

And after that? Jasperse-Sjolander is hoping to head back to Africa for a longer contract with a non-governmental organization like Save the Elephants, where he can use learnings from his PhD to advance our understanding of elephant behavior even further.

“I like just being in Africa and being in the field,” he says. While many researchers in his field go back and forth between the U.S. and Africa, “I like to live and embody the places I study.”

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��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� PhD student Liam Jasperse-Sjolander is helping elephant behavioral observation get off the ground—and into the air above Africa.

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When the mountain becomes a mirror

Rachel Sauer — Thu, 19 Mar 2026 17:42:33 +0000

When the mountain becomes a mirror Rachel Sauer Thu, 03/19/2026 - 11:42

Cody DeBos

��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� alum Jason Kolaczkowski’s new memoir reveals lessons found in the mountains and in life

Jason Kolaczkowski (PolSci ’99) didn’t know if the Himalayas would bring him clarity, but he knew he needed to attempt the first ascent of an unclimbed peak. Diagnosed with leukemia just a year earlier, he boarded a flight to Asia in 2019 with a plan.

The goal wasn’t to make history as a mountaineer. For Kolaczkowski, the trip was about defying the notion that his time was already running out.

“There was a moment when I thought to myself, ‘I’m going to die a lot younger than I thought I was, and so I want to go and do this thing.’ There was no going back from there,” he recalls.

Jason Kolaczkowski (PolSci ’99), shown here at basecamp, attempted the first ascent of a previously unclimbed Himalayan peak after being diagnosed with leukemia. (All photos courtesy Jason Kolaczkowski)

In his forthcoming memoir, Notions of Grace: A Memoir of Climbing, Cancer and Family, Kolaczkowski chronicles the lessons learned leading up to and following that expedition.

“It started as internal processing for me. The process of writing the book was really then an act of compulsion,” he explains. “I wanted to archive a snapshot of my life for my kids, who were too young to understand at the time. Maybe when they’re 14 and maybe again when they’re 24—maybe they’ll care.”

The mountain becomes a mirror

Wrestling with risk, fatherhood, identity and a cancer diagnosis layered with unknowns, Kolaczkowski thought of climbing as a reprieve.

The type of slow-progressing leukemia he had been diagnosed with can remain asymptomatic for years. Treatment wasn’t recommended yet, so he entered a “watch-and-wait” phase that included taking precautions to protect his compromised immune system.

But Kolaczkowski’s internal clock was ticking.

A climber since the late Aughts, he had long dreamed of attempting a previously unclimbed route. He started planning the Himalayan expedition before his diagnosis, but after it came, the trip felt more urgent.

“The first big question was: Well, should I even still go?” he says. “I ultimately reached the conclusion that I still felt healthy enough to do it.”

After finding the right group, the pieces fell into place, but the climb itself would soon be a wakeup call. In Notions of Grace, Kolaczkowski describes the peril of fixing lines in a gully littered with rockfall. The terrain, though not inherently difficult to climb, was deadly in its indifference. The mountain didn't care if Kolaczkowski died.

“What I came away with was a new sense of self-awareness. Just being in that amount of danger for that amount of time shifted my mindset into a much more forward-looking place again,” he says.

The expedition didn’t end in a triumphant summit photo, but Kolaczkowski flew home counting it as a success.

“I was really looking forward to going home and doing things with my kids.”

Writing for who matters most

Kolaczkowski describes his emotional state before the trip as grief for a life transformed by factors beyond his control.

“I guess you could say that telling a private story in public is another form of accepting risk,” says Jason Kolaczkowski of writing his memoir.

“Getting a cancer diagnosis really is a grieving process. You’re giving up a life that you had—an understanding of your goals and your family dynamics that you had—and you have to let it go and shift into the acceptance eventually of what is reality now,” he says.

Writing became his way of documenting this shift. His sons remained the intended audience for a while, but after sharing early drafts with friends over time, Kolaczkowski’s outlook on the project changed.

“People started telling me, ‘I think there are some universal themes here that other people would be interested in.’ So, I started thinking of ways to maybe get this published,” he says.

He kept writing, bringing the meticulous habits learned in planning expeditions and climbing rugged peaks to the page.

“Rather than focusing on getting the book done, my goal was to put in effort consistently. Some efforts will be great; others won’t be,” Kolaczkowski says.

“If you think about not making summits, and when to turn around and all that sort of stuff, having enough self-forgiveness to accept that, it translates well. Maybe today was hard to write and it just isn’t coming out; that’s OK as long as I’ve made the attempt,” he adds.

The calculus of risk

The title of Kolaczkowski’s memoir mirrors its tone. Grace isn’t something he claims to possess in abundance. Rather, he jokes that it’s often a goal he stumbles toward, describing several moments in the book as a “series of misadventures rather than adventures.”

The throughline connecting mountains, medical challenges and fatherhood is a series of lessons on living life with just the right amount of risk.

Just a few months after Kolaczkowski returned from Nepal, there were new obstacles to overcome as the COVID-19 pandemic hit. Strict precautions for protecting his health became necessary, leading the Kolaczkowskis to the decision to homeschool their sons.

“We were shrinking down the world in order to keep me safe, but 5-year olds need their world to expand. What are we willing to do from a mitigation perspective when it comes at a cost?” he asks.

At first, the choice felt aligned with his family’s needs. But after watching one of his sons be afraid to touch playground equipment, Kolaczkowski knew it was time to rethink his approach to risk.

“And that’s what the book is about. How little risk is too little risk? How much is too much? Because we had taken too little risk and it was visibly stunting the character development of my kids,” he says.

Fortunately, in his years of climbing, Kolaczkowski had already developed a mental framework for managing uncertainty.

Jason Kolaczkowski approaches a couloir entrance on his Himalayan climb.

“You’re constantly building in these points where you are having the meta-conversation about the thing that you're doing,” he says. “You're talking about how to talk about the climb.”

That same approach became essential to not only navigating the pandemic but rebuilding his family’s relationship with adventure. Because his wife, Kristina, had often accompanied him on climbing trips, she shared some of the same language.

“The ability to sort of coalesce around that sort of meta-conversation—how are we going to talk about how we're going to deal with these new risks—was a big part of our family life,” he says.

Return to adventure

Eventually, Kolaczkowski and his family began venturing out again. Hiking, climbing and reconnecting in the relative safety of the outdoors during the pandemic ultimately led to a 100-mile family hike around Mont Blanc.

“I’ve never seen them quite so happy,” he says, recalling his sons’ experience on the trip.

Today, Kolaczkowski is planning many more adventures, some with his sons and some on his own. He recently joined an expedition in Kyrgyzstan and is looking ahead to more climbs, including a return to Nepal in 2027.

Telling his story publicly, he says, was another kind of healing.

“I guess you could say that telling a private story in public is another form of accepting risk,” he admits.

But as Kolaczkowski sets his eyes on what the future will bring, public opinions aren’t what he worries about.

“That’s one of the nice things about having cancer. It puts other stuff in perspective,” he says with a smile.

Notions of Grace: A Memoir of Climbing, Cancer and Family is available for pre-order now through DAP Books and will be released March 31.

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��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� alum Jason Kolaczkowski’s new memoir reveals lessons found in the mountains and in life.

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Top photo: Jason Kolaczkowski at an 18,000-foot camp

Can concussions cause fear of movement?

Rachel Sauer — Wed, 18 Mar 2026 17:12:43 +0000

Can concussions cause fear of movement? Rachel Sauer Wed, 03/18/2026 - 11:12

Alexandra Phelps

��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� neuroscience student Alexander Wiegman’s research finds that a history of concussions doesn’t necessarily lead to later kinesiophobia

Stadium lights stream over the field. It’s Friday night, and over the course of the football game touchdowns have been scored, penalty flags have flown and countless plays have been run. However, on the next play, something goes awry. A player is down on the field and they’re helped to the medical tent. Upon further observation, medics diagnose a concussion.

In sports, injury is always a possibility. A misstep or collision can cause an athlete to need a period of recovery, changing not only their physical health but also their relationship with movement. For Alexander Wiegman, a former football player and an undergraduate University of Colorado Boulder neuroscience student, a similar reality became personal and, later, scientific.

Alexander Wiegman, a former football player and an undergraduate University of Colorado Boulder neuroscience student, studies how concussions can lead to kinesiophobia, a debilitating fear of movement that usually results from an injury or re-injury.

Wiegman’s recently published research in the journal Brain Injury examines how concussions can lead to kinesiophobia, a debilitating fear of movement that usually results from an injury or re-injury.

Individuals who’ve experienced kinesiophobia, a fear of movement due to the possibility of pain, can have decreased physical activity levels, stemming from the fear and hesitancy of activity. Research such as Wiegman’s, which looks into the mental recovery from a concussion, seeks to predict which patients are more likely to develop severe kinesiophobia. Building a broader understanding of the mental effects of concussions can help providers to optimize care and provide recommendations for how individuals can recover from kinesiophobia.

Working with Dr. David Howell, Dr. Julie Wilson and the team of researchers in the Colorado Concussion Research Laboratory (CCRL) at the University of Colorado Anschutz, Wiegman initially predicted that if a patient experienced a lower initial symptom severity as well as a lower number of prior concussions, they would have lower kinesiophobia scores. However, the research findings suggested the opposite.

From the field to the lab

Wiegman played football for as long as he can remember, and like many athletes, he experienced injuries, including concussions. Even after going through his recovery care with the help of a concussion specialist, he was still unsure about moving his body again. This fear inspired him to begin his research.

As an undergraduate, he has had an opportunity to bring his experience with concussion care full circle. Working alongside his co-researchers, Wiegman transformed his initial experience with concussions into a hypothesis. He notes that he was allowed “to take the reins with my project. We began by discussing my experience with concussions because I've been through it. The fear of movement and the fear of getting back to activity is something that I really struggled with.

“I was always a math and science person, and by the time I got to high school, I knew I wanted to study something in that realm. But by the time I got to college, I knew I wanted to go into medicine.”

Understanding the fear of movement

Kinesiophobia is a response that has been documented across many types of injuries, though it's been less studied in people diagnosed with concussions. With numerous injuries, kinesiophobia can contribute to other symptoms even after the injury itself has healed. Understanding kinesiophobia is important because it can affect the severity of initial injuries, including concussions. A patient’s quality of life and recovery times are all aspects that can be impacted.

To better understand this gap in kinesiophobia research with concussions, Wiegman collaborated with CCRL researchers. Participants completed one assessment within 21 days of their injury and another between 30 and 90 days post-concussion.

“It is possible that individuals who have experiences with prior injuries understand the recovery process and have developed resilience against the negative aspects of fear of movement,” says ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� researcher Alexander Wiegman. (Photo: John Torcasio/Unsplash)

From a clinical perspective, "the first thing you think about is getting someone physically healthy," Wiegman explains, adding that he and his co-researchers examined "the broader idea of mental health after concussions" in an attempt to enhance the care that can be provided after a concussion. Wiegman and his research colleagues looked at the period post-concussion because typically this is when the physical injury has recovered. Focusing on this window of time allowed them to better understand how patients were recovering both physically and mentally from their injury.

What looking under the hood revealed

Contrary to Wiegman’s hypothesis that patients who had a more extensive injury history would exhibit more severe kinesiophobia, these patients actually displayed less-severe kinesiophobia.

However, after analyzing patient data, Wiegman concluded that those who had previously recovered from injuries were less fearful in moving their body again. “It is possible that individuals who have experiences with prior injuries understand the recovery process and have developed resilience against the negative aspects of fear of movement,” he says.

The research found that there was no evidence to suggest that age, sex, or prior concussions were independently associated with kinesiophobia. Wiegman concluded that prior injury and the experience of recovery may be one of the most influential factors in how a patient may or may not develop kinesiophobia.

Looking ahead

As a senior, Wiegman is pursuing a route to medical school. Interning as an athletic trainer with ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� track and football teams, as well as working as a phlebotomist, he’s had hands-on experience with athletes and their injuries. As Wiegman was completing his research and defending his senior thesis, he also studied for and took the MCAT.

Wiegman hopes to learn more about the relationship between kinesiophobia and concussions. “In my mind, I wanted to find some definitiveness, especially with this being intended to be used in a clinical setting; I really wanted to have the answer,” he says. “It was hard to wrap my head around [the fact] that we have data, but we don’t have an answer per se.” He explains that this research is a step in the right direction and hopes to continue on to further research of kinesiophobia and other mental health disparities following concussions.

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��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� neuroscience student Alexander Wiegman’s research finds that a history of concussions doesn’t necessarily lead to later kinesiophobia.

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Top photo: John Torcasio/Unsplash

Project harnesses next-generation satellites to preserve Arctic sea ice

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 17 Mar 2026 22:11:24 +0000

Project harnesses next-generation satellites to preserve Arctic sea ice Rachel Sauer Tue, 03/17/2026 - 16:11

��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� researcher Ivy Tan leads a project recently funded by Ocean Visions that aims to assess whether mixed-phase cloud thinning is a viable method for cooling the Arctic

Ivy Tan, a University of Colorado Boulder assistant professor of physics, recently was awarded funding from Ocean Visions for a project she leads that is assessing whether mixed-phase cloud thinning is a viable method for cooling the Arctic and restoring sea ice.

Tan’s project is one of six funded by Ocean Visions, a nonprofit ocean conservation organization pursuing solutions to counter and reverse climate impacts on ocean health. The selected projects are being funded through Ocean Visions’ Arctic Sea Ice Restoration Research Fund, which was created to identify, prioritize and support research on cutting-edge ideas to slow the loss of Arctic sea ice.

“Arctic summer sea ice is a critical foundation of the global ocean and climate system, and its rapid loss is creating a series of severe risks to nature and people across the planet,” says Brad Ack, Ocean Visions CEO. “These research projects, and others to come, are intended to help answer the glaring question: Is there anything else we can do to forestall these potentially irreversible outcomes?”

“This support from Ocean Visions will allow us to better understand the radiative influence of Arctic clouds on the rapidly warming Arctic by spectrally fingerprinting the far infrared radiative signature of clouds using state-of-the-art technology,” Tan says.

Tan and her research colleagues—Sebastian Schmidt, a ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� professor of atmospheric and oceanic sciences, Michael Diamond at Florida State University and Colten Peterson with the NASA Goddard Space Flight Center—are developing a new, satellite-based Arctic cloud observation product using recently launched satellites with unprecedented routine measurements of far-infrared radiation (NASA’s PREFIRE CubeSats), as well as collocated radar, LiDAR and imager instruments.

“We will compare the satellite observations to those made with ESA/JAXA’s recently launched EarthCARE satellite and an aircraft (as part of NASA’s ARCSIX campaign),” Tan and her colleagues explain. “These comparisons will be used to produce and validate an algorithm that provides information on cloud properties and their radiative effects on the Arctic surface on a broad spatial scale. Our framework will uniquely take into account the influence of the vertical thermal stratification of the Arctic atmosphere helping us to determine where and when mixed-phase cloud seeding would, or would not, have potential as a climate intervention strategy.”

Among their aims is to help make mixed-phase cloud thinning a more viable method for cooling the Arctic and restoring sea ice. For this to happen, however, “there would need to be enough of the right type of cloud present to be thinned by seeding (clouds containing supercooled liquid water), at the right time (polar night), to produce the desired climate forcing (cooling). Unfortunately, accurately measuring these clouds, especially at night, is very challenging with current satellite products,” the researchers explain.

Ocean Visions selected the six projects through a competitive process, including review by an independent international expert panel. The research to be conducted will provide the foundation for future work, if warranted, to further advance knowledge and address ecological, social and ethical dimensions, as well as develop guidance on safeguards or stage gates for future research, according to Ocean Visions.

“The research supported through the Arctic Sea Ice Restoration Research Fund prioritizes scientific merit, interdisciplinary approaches, and careful risk assessment through a rigorous review,” says Dr. Ginny Selz, Ocean Visions senior program director. “We are excited to watch this research progress and see how it expands our understanding of potential approaches to protect and restore Arctic sea ice.”

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��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� researcher Ivy Tan leads a project recently funded by Ocean Visions that aims to assess whether mixed-phase cloud thinning is a viable method for cooling the Arctic.

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Scientist lives by the Serengeti Rules

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 17 Mar 2026 02:17:06 +0000

Scientist lives by the Serengeti Rules Rachel Sauer Mon, 03/16/2026 - 20:17

Rachel Sauer

Author, filmmaker and scholar Sean B. Carroll, formerly a ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� postdoctoral researcher, will deliver the Rose M. Litman Memorial Lecture in Science April 7

When Sean B. Carroll came to the University of Colorado Boulder in 1983, right out of graduate school and newly hired as a postdoctoral researcher in the lab of molecular, cellular and developmental biologist Matt Scott, he was somewhat indifferent to Drosophila melanogaster, better known as the fruit fly and Scott’s research focus.

“I was coming from an immunology background, working with furry animals, and my attitude was that studying fruit flies wouldn’t teach us anything general,” Carroll recalls. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with humans or important things, or so I thought. But that was a really narrow view, because it turns out that all these genes that build fruit fly parts are in us—they build parts in us—so fruit flies became a passport to the whole animal kingdom.”

Scientist, author and filmmaker Sean B. Carroll, a former ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� postdoctoral researcher, will deliver the Rose M. Litman Memorial Lecture in Science April 7.

And with that passport, Carroll has roamed the planet as an evolutionary developmental biologist and award-winning author and filmmaker, observing life from individual cells to continent-spanning populations. Through his observations and experiences emerged what he came to call “The Serengeti Rules,” based on the idea that everything in the living world is regulated.

He will discuss the discovery of The Serengeti Rules, on which he elaborates in his book of the same name, during the Rose M. Litman Memorial Lecture from 4-5 p.m. April 7 in the CASE Chancellor’s Hall Auditorium.

The Serengeti Rules, as he describes them, are ecological rules that regulate the numbers and kinds of animals and plants in any given place, and how they are being applied to restore some of the greatest wildernesses on the planet.

“Every cell contains a society of molecules, every organ a society of cells, every body a society of organs, every habitat a society of organisms,” he writes in The Serengeti Rules. “Understanding the interactions within each of those societies are the primary aims of molecular biology, physiology and ecology.”

Diversity in the animal kingdom

Before he had roamed the globe as a scientist and filmmaker, however, Carroll was the kid growing up in Toledo, Ohio, flipping over rocks to see what was under them. “I have a love for the entire animal kingdom,” he explains, which guided him to a bachelor’s degree in biology from Washington University and a PhD in immunology from Tufts University.

During his graduate studies, he became very interested in the question of how animal bodies evolve—in understanding how all the diversity in the animal kingdom came about. So, he hatched a plan to solve the mysteries of development.

“Changes in development are what lead to changes in form,” Carroll says. “The whole diversity of the animal kingdom is rooted in development, so we had to crack the black-box mystery of development to get any traction in understanding how the physical diversity of the animal kingdom evolved.”

Thus, the fruit flies. He wagered that studying them could be a key to unlocking the diversity of the animal kingdom—and the genes that govern development—and came to ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� determined to pick the lock on that black box.

If you go

What: 2026 Rose M. Litman Memorial Lecture in Science—The Serengeti Rules: The Regulation and Restoration of Biodiversity

Who: Sean B. Carroll

When: 4–5 p.m. Tuesday, April 7, with reception to follow

Where: Chancellor’s Hall Auditorium, Center for Academic Success & Engagement (CASE)

Learn more

“During this time, 1983, oh my god—how an egg turns into a complex creature was a mystery,” he says. “It was a spectacular pageant we could watch from the outside, but we didn’t know what was going on inside. We needed to identify the genes that are necessary for that process, figure out what the genes did.

“It’s hard to overstate both how deep the mystery was but how thrilling these clues were as they started to unfold. Those days were incredibly exhilarating and intense, the lab was a beehive, people worked all days and nights and weekends because, first of all, we were fascinated. Also, we felt we had a shot at some really fundamental discoveries. Looking back, these times don’t happen very often in science where you really have a black-box mystery, and it breaks open—and it broke open partly because of what we did in Matt’s lab and partly because of what our peers around the world did.”

One eureka moment from Carroll’s time in Boulder came about 18 months into his research. He had taken on the task of seeing genes in action inside developing fruit fly embryos, working every day in the lab, trying this technique and that technique until his bag of tricks was almost empty; he was no closer to understanding which genes caused wings to grow, for example, or determined their shape.

He remembers a particular time when he took his samples down to a borrowed microscope, flipping on an ultraviolet light because he was looking at fluorescence, “and the best thing I can say is that it was a ‘holy sh^t!’ moment. I remember looking down, and I saw these embryos that had these beautiful green rings circling them, which is the mark of a gene that turns on every other segment.

“That’s the day when the dam broke, the door blew open, the clouds parted. It’s almost overwhelming because now so many things are possible. I went from having nothing to show anybody to essentially having the tools that would allow me to really untangle this puzzle.”

During his April 7 lecture, Sean B. Carroll will discuss the Serengeti Rules, the ecological rules that regulate the numbers and kinds of animals and plants in any given place, and how they are being applied to restore some of the greatest wildernesses on the planet.

A discovery of wings

After completing his ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� postdoc, Carroll joined the faculty at the University of Wisconsin Madison, where he continued studying the genes that control animal body patterns and play major roles in the evolution of animal diversity. There he “saw something in the microscope that nobody had ever seen before,” he remembers.

He and the other researchers in his lab isolated the handful of genes that are activated in caterpillars to become butterfly wings. This discovery, published in the journal Science, garnered a feature in The New York Times, an interview on PBS News Hour and an invitation to the White House Correspondents’ Association dinner.

From there, Carroll built a career that marries both research and discovery with science communication—as an investigator and vice president for science education at the Howard Hughes Medical Institute (HHMI) and head of the HHMI Tangled Bank Studios, where he executive produced or was executive in charge of more than 30 documentary films, including the Oscar-nominated and Peabody-winning All That Breathes. He has won three Emmys and been nominated for an additional five.

During that time, “I decided, ‘I’m telling the same story again and again, so I probably should write this down,’” he says. “So, I wrote a book, then I wrote another book.” He has written six books, including Remarkable Creatures: Epic Adventures in the Search for the Origins of Species, which was a finalist for the 2009 National Book Award for nonfiction, and The Serengeti Rules: The Quest to Discover How Life Works and Why It Matters, which will be the foundation for his ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� lecture.

Carroll, who is a distinguished university professor and the Andrew and Mary Balo and Nicholas and Susan Simon Chair of Biology at the University of Maryland, credits the depth and success of his career in large part to the collaborations of which he’s been a part. “I like to think my toolkit has grown over the years, but it doesn’t happen all at once and it doesn’t happen alone. I didn’t write a full-length book until I was 45 and truly an expert in my field.

“I think people might look at my portfolio and say the science portfolio is pretty good, the external indicators are good; the writing career, there’s been a fair amount of output; the film career has been good. But in no way could I have done it alone. Science is a hugely collaborative thing; filmmaking’s even more collaborative. An individual like me gets a lot of credit for a body of work owned by an enormous community.”

Through it all—from his extensive travels through the Serengeti to the red carpet at the Academy Awards to the quiet moments in the lab—the joy of discovery and mystery-solving has never ebbed, he says. “I love science because I love nature and I love trying to figure out how nature works. I love the privilege and thrill of peeking into that box and going, ‘Oh, my gosh, that’s how it is.’”

��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� the Rose M. Litman Memorial Lecture in Science

The Litman Lecture celebrates the legacy of an exceptional scientist and educator with a lifelong passion for research and a firm commitment to keeping rigorous inquiry at the heart of university life.

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Author, filmmaker and scholar Sean B. Carroll, formerly a ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� postdoctoral researcher, will deliver the Rose M. Litman Memorial Lecture in Science April 7.

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